Page 59 of Fragmented Illusions
“No. You know that. I need her, Sol.Weneed her. She has to come around,” I ramble on as we step into the back room of the cabin. The air smells of musk, mold, and bleach. Quite the nose-burning combination, but I inhale deeply anyway. It’s the only place that feels like home.
“She’s still conked out,” I muse as Sol clicks on the heavy black flashlight we keep next to the back door. My upper lip grows sweaty as every breath out blows back in my face and I clench my jaw. I hate these motherfuckers sometimes, but I know how necessary they are. Plus, whenever the women see them when they wake up, it sends them deeper into their hysteria. It’s quite comical—almost like a real life horror movie. Except Sol and I aren’t as stupid as those motherfuckers.
We both walk over to the woman still lying in the middle of the floor, bound and gagged, and still sleeping heavily.
“How much did you give her?” I ask him, though I don’t expect an answer. He knows what he’s doing and if he thought she would be waking up any time soon, he wouldn’t have left her here.
Another new venture; leaving a victim alive for longer than necessary.
We’re keeping her alive—for Fallon. Hopefully she comes around soon because I don’t know how long Sol is willing to let this woman stay alive. She’s a risk of the worst kind.
“How long do we have?” I try another question. I’m always making an effort to get Solomon to speak more. Some days it works, others it makes his silence more pronounced, but that’s yet another thing I’m hoping Fallon can help with. He seems to like talking to her.
Maybe it’s because of what we went through with Mom
I don’t know.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. I still love him, and he loves me—in his own way.
Brothers, to the grave.
“We have until Fallon comes to her senses,” he answers me as he pulls the syringe from the crook of Lilah’s arm and places it back in the small black zip-up pouch. She’s beautiful, truly, but she has nothing on Fallon.
“Are you sure?” I ask as I eye her warily, worried she’ll wake up any moment and expose us even though I know Solomon gave her another hit which will have her out until mid-morning, probably even later than that.
“Are you questioning me, Spencer Rhys?” Sol asks as he steps towards me. His steps are slow and sure. His body tall, lanky almost, but the contours of his muscles are etched deeply into his skin. Even though his body is covered head to toe in black clothing, I can’t help picturing those muscles.
I swallow hard, knowing I fucked up. He used my middle name—one he never uses. Even when I fucked up and said his name around Fallon, he didn’t say it. But when I question him, he does. Brilliant.
“Nope,” I say, popping the P. But that was the wrong thing to say because the next thing I know, my back is slamming against the rotting wall. I groan as a piece of the splintered wood pierces me near the base of my spine. Sol pushes me further against the wall, and that’s when I notice his mask is off and his face is blank, relaxed. He almost looks as if he was staring at a TV screen, bored out of his mind.
It’s annoying how indifferent he can act when his hand on me makes me feel so fuckingalive.
As if he can read my thoughts, he squeezes his hand around my throat so hard I can feel my Adam’s apple press back into my throat. I gag and choke, but I don’t move. Instead, a smirk pulls at my lips as I cock my head and push forward—into his grip.
I hold my breath, resisting the urge to retch at the pressure building as I keep pushing against his hold on me. Solomon takes a step forward and presses his slender body fully against mine. Even through our clothing, I can feel his heat, his lean muscles,him.
Always him.
“What, Sol,” I ask, my voice low. I’m taunting him, pushing him to his fucking limit. I need him to break for me—just this once. Before Fallon decides to be ours, I need Sol to myself one last time.
Only us.
In the only place we can truly be ourselves.
Brothers. Murderers. Lovers.
Sol rips my mask off, the edge of it scratching the skin of my forehead. “Use your words,brother.” My eyes roll into the back of my head as his teeth sink into the tender flesh of my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as his sharp canines pierce my skin. I swallow the initial pain that blooms in my mouth and let my head fall back as Sol devours me.
He pulls my bottom lip back with his as he leans away from me. His eyes capture mine, shrouded in the shadows as the light from the flashlight only illuminates Lilah still passed out and the wall across the short room.
“What do you want from me, Spence.” Sol pants as he leans forward and rests his forehead on my shoulder, catching his breath. His words are meant to be a question, but he says them as a statement. Like he already knows the answer—and I suppose he probably does. It’s a matter of if he’s going to give me what I want—what I know webothwant.
His hands stay by his sides as he leans against me. I know he can feel my erection digging into his stomach at our close proximity and the longer we stand here, the seconds ticking by slow and steady, I start to feel his own length hardening right alongside mine.
A smirk pulls at my lips, and I tilt my head to the side as I ponder what to say. It needs to be something to set him over the edge—but not too far.
“Fuck,” I grumble, already feeling defeated. While he succumbs to my needs, and sometimes his—though those moments are rare—I know it’s Fallon who makes us. Back in the bathroom, the way the three of us were with each other?
